In spite, however, of Heliobas' warning words, El-Râmi proceeds with his experiment, which ends as recorded. The scientist is taken by his brother Féraz—a poetically conceived character—to a monastery in Cyprus, where he lives in placid contentment. Here he is visited by some English friends, who sum up his condition and suggest a simple remedy for others inclined to pursue similar researches in a way that strikes one as singularly practical:
"He always went into things with such terrible
closeness, did El-Râmi,"—said Sir Frederick after a
pause; "no wonder his brain gave way at last.
You know you can't keep on asking the why, why,
why of everything without getting shut up in the
long run."
"I think we were not meant to ask 'why' at all," said Irene slowly; "we are made to accept and believe that everything is for the best."
And surely the gentle rejoinder of Irene is one
that should silence controversy, dissipate vain speculation,
and bring peace and rest to many thousands
of minds which are wearied with attempts "to
prove the apparently Unprovable."
